


The Arena [Sherlock]

by notebookofdreams



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: POV Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock - Freeform, The Arena
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-29 05:03:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14465616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notebookofdreams/pseuds/notebookofdreams
Summary: The British government is wary of the country's protection, so they take all the money and pay fighters to battle in an arena. Sherlock wonders how John is so suspiciously talented in fighting.





	1. Chapter 1

The man fell to the ground, struggling to breathe. The shadowy figure above him turned and left the arena, wiping the blood from his face.

-

"Back so early?" John turned in his chair as Sherlock strolled into the flat. The taller man collapsed onto the sofa.

"When did  _you_ even get back?"

"'Bout an hour ago." Sherlock sighed at the comment. 

"Well, John, I'm done for the day." John's eyebrows furrowed.

"You gonna...clean that up?" He asked, gesturing to his own face. Sherlock faced John and felt the blood on his chin.

"I suppose." He rose and walked straight to the bathroom. Britain was going through difficult times where many citizens were beginning to go through poverty because the government had collected all the money. There was a new popular sport: a deadly one. Imagine fighting to the death in an arena. The government believed that the only way to save their country was to have the strongest military that they possibly could and less people to take care of, and in order to do so, they paid high wages to talented fighters. Really, the only way to survive at this point was to join the fight and win.

As he cleaned off his face, Sherlock wondered how John usually managed to leave the arena without a scratch. All the best fighters had their battle scars, yet John came home totally clean and healthy every day. How was this even possible?

"Hey, John?" Sherlock exited the bathroom.

"Yes?" 

"I know that you were in the military before, but how do you always do so unbelievably well in the arena? It's almost unreal." John smiled at his friend and shrugged.

"Years of training." He replied, sipping his tea. 

"But you don't even practice anymore. And you were a _doctor_!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"Sherlock, if you want to be as good as me, you're just going to need to practice. I can't help you by talking about it." Sherlock scoffed.

"I could be just as good as you if I tried." The dark-haired man stared his short friend down.

"I'm just teasing Sherlock, calm down." John set down his tea. "What time are you leaving tomorrow?"

"Nine."

"Then I'll come with you."

"You always come with me."

"Well, I'll also leave at the same time as you, not just when I have enough money."

"Stop boasting."

"I'm not boasting!" The two stared at each other in silence for a minute. John laughed.

"Come on, Sherlock, you're great at fighting."

"I _am_ pretty great at fighting, but somehow not as good as you." John rose and patted the younger man's head.

"I'm going to bed. Night."

"Already? What time is it?"

"10:30."

"Oh."

Sherlock ended up falling asleep on the couch anyway.

 


	2. Chapter 2

"Rise and shine," Sherlock's covers were ripped from him and he groaned. "It's already 7:30."

"I said I was leaving at _nine_." The sleepy man growled. John shrugged.

"Tea's already done," He left the room. "Get it while it's still hot." Sherlock staggered out of bed and got dressed, trudging to the bathroom to check his wounds. The one on his chin wouldn't leave a scar and would most likely go away in a few weeks. The few small scratches on his left elbow from falling and scraping it would go away in approximately a week or so. Nothing too serious.

John was in his chair already, half-finished with his tea. He casually flipped through the papers, looking up only when Sherlock sat across from him.

"Looks like 3rd level champions are getting paid double this week," He commented dryly. "Starting today." The younger man's bright eyes flickered up to meet his friend's blue-gray-brown ones.

"We going for it then?" He inquired.

"Yep." The blond man replied, popping the P like his friend did.

-

“ _Oh, for God’s sake_ , John. Give me a break!” Sherlock leaned against the wall holding his abdomen.

“You said you wanted me to do that!”

“I didn’t ask you to punch me in the stomach!”

“You said ‘fight me like you would anyone else, forget I’m your friend.’ Just out of habit, it _leads_ me to punch you in the stomach.” The doctor chuckled. The two were interrupted by a buzzing noise. “Right, let’s go.” John grabbed the limping man’s arm and tugged him toward the arena. Sherlock regained his balance and stopped.

“I think I’ll wait this one out.”

“Oh, come on,” John sighed. “It’s just a blow to the stomach, nothing more.”

“Let me get some water first...I’ll join you in a bit.” The dark-haired man turned and headed toward the public lounge, his friend frowning as he watched him leave.

-

“Hey Sherl,” A woman with dark brown eyes and hair greeted Sherlock as he walked into the lounge. She leaned against the back counter with an energy drink in her hand. “I heard you put up quite the fight yesterday...too bad I wasn’t there to see.”

“Nice to see you’re back, Janine. Where’d you go anyway?” The detective grabbed an ice-cold bottle from the fridge. Janine sighed and placed her drink on the counter behind her.

“Minor injury. Doctor said I couldn’t fight for a week. It was _horrible_.” Sherlock smirked.

“I’d imagine. That must’ve been unbearable, taking a one week break from the arena.”

“You have no idea. Where’s John?”

“He’s in for the first match.” Janine raised an eyebrow.

“Why didn’t you go with him?”

“It’s 3rd level champions week. I decided to let him win.”

“Yeah, sure.” Janine smiled. “Be careful out there.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” The dark-haired man sipped his water and exited the lounge.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock doesn’t pay attention to who he’s against on the bracket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how tall is the actress for Janine I can’t find her height hhhhh

“John?” Sherlock called out into the stadium.

“He’s in the training room, dear. He just won his first fight.” Mrs. Hudson chimed in.

“Mrs. Hudson? Why are you out here? I’ve told you it’s very dangerous!” The tall man’s voice was laced with concern.

“Oh, I just had to see my boys take home the victory. Are you going to attempt 3rd level fighting? John is, and he’s doing especially well.” The short lady smiled up at Sherlock, who growled in return.

“Mrs. Hudson, if I win the 2nd level I’m going to have to go against John and he always beats me.” The man huffed. “It’s embarrassing because I’m his friend and he won’t just kill me.”

“Oh, but he’s really sweet about it, isn’t he?” Sherlock hummed in response. Of course he was, Dr. John “Perfect” Watson. Speak of the devil...

“Hey Sherlock, are you going for it now?” The doctor asked.

“I guess.”

“You’ll do great, Sherlock!” Mrs. Hudson called as Sherlock emotionlessly turned and walked toward the brackets. He scribbled his name in a random box and sat in the bleachers to wait. About 25 minutes later he was called up. A dark-haired woman strolled in from the other side, nunchucks swinging beside her. Her jaw dropped once she laid eyes on Sherlock. The high-cheekboned man squinted.

Janine.

“ _Bloody Hell_ ,” Janine mouthed from across the stadium. The two locked eyes, trying to plan out their battle. Their signal went off and they walked towards each other.

“Swing at me and I’ll duck,” Janine whispered. Sherlock brought back his polearm and swung it towards his friend.

Just as they had planned, Janine ducked but brought a nunchuck around Sherlock’s ankle, earning a reaction that forced her to stifle a laugh. She dragged him across the ground before he found a way to break free and trip her with the polearm. From the stands, John and Mrs. Hudon were totally losing it.

At one point, Sherlock had Janine on the ground and they both had their fists wrapped around the pole, pushing it towards the other.

“How are we going to end this?” Sherlock whispered.

“Whoever wins wins.” The woman smirked. Sherlock’s eyes widened.

“Janine, please don’t do this to me.”

“Sorry Sherl.” She flipped Sherlock over onto his back. “Girl’s gotta make a living.”

“Guy’s got a reputation to keep up.” Sherlock retorted.

“I wouldn’t worry about that.” The woman chuckled. “Surrender.”

“No.”

“Fine.” Janine stood, releasing her anxious opponent. “Come and defeat me, then.”

“I can’t.” His hands shook. “I can’t attack you.” Janine shrugged.

“This is your chance to keep your _reputation_.” She smiled.

“ _Oh, for God’s sake_ —” Sherlock was cut off by Janine tackling him to the ground, leaving a second mark next to his chin.

“The guy loses.” A unenthusiastic announcer murmured through his microphone. Sherlock grunted.

“Can you let me up now?” He struggled under Janine’s foot. She immediately stepped away from him.

“Sorry about that,” She blushed. “Come on, let’s go.” Janine grabbed Sherlock’s arm and tugged him towards the lounge.

-

“Why’d you have to humiliate me again?” Sherlock whined as the two stepped through the heavy doors.

“Maybe next time you’ll check who you’re going against on the bracket.” 


End file.
